Post #493
30/3 Coastal cool.
Hope springs eternal when a peek at the sky proves the forecasters wrong, St. Helens (Tasmania) was due for 4mm of rain but the radar cleared the way for k's on Saturday morning, albeit a solo spin. Another tour of mystery on unknown roads south of town (with only a northerly alternative) on the A3 toward Scamander that hugs the eastern coast of Van Diemen's Land. Of course there was a 2k climb out of town (only 3%) but that's enough to f%# this flat-lander! With a gasp and groan to the top (defiantly on the 53 ring) I'd scored 61st out of 950 to elevate the ego, the drive down to Diana's Basin pumped up the average with a west southwester the only hinderance......till a traffic light in the middle of nowhere ground me to a halt (single lane for bridgeworks). I was back to zone two when the light changed to green, back into the groove grinding to Beaumaris (yet another township asleep) via segments 'How's the waves' and 'Surfside schnitzel'. There was barely 5k's to reach Scamander and time was still on my side, a few pedestrians on newspaper and milk duties as I lengthened the target to reach the Falmouth turn-off. I've developed a wallaby wail that turns the marsupials back to the bush (breeding's been bountiful to put these critters almost into plague proportions), helping another steady climb go unrestricted until time turned me around (almost at the turn-off). All those previous arresting ascents were now desirable downhills, progress swift and sweet back to Scamander, though the west northwester made it's presence felt on the flat and open stretches to Beaumaris. That traffic light in no-man's-land halted me again, the sound of distant waves breaking at the beach and the coastal caress of sea air made the wait a taste of tranquillity. The green light broke the daydream and back into the moving mode I faced the long but manageable 3% climb from Diana's Basin to Flagstaff Rd, a fast finish on the downhill into St. Helens completing a quick 50k.
31/3 Bay of Fires.
HTFU I said to self Sunday and committed to kit in short knicks, the tenacity for the 6 degree temperature trawling the depths of determination (feels like 3.8) but I had softened to wear fingered gloves. Tassie's iconic Bay of Fires promised no heat but it's scenery drew me north of St. Helens on another coastal road, the luxury of a sleep-in starting me at 6:30. It wasn't long till the first rise confronted me, a sharp little sucker (12%) but barely 500 metres long. The wildlife stayed at the forest's edge as I crested the bump and gritted teeth for a fresh descent, only to find a roller coaster road ahead of me. The asphalt finally levelled to arc around Taylor's Beach, then another few ups and downs to arrive in the village (make that gathering of seven houses) called "The Gardens". A 2 metre wide rough edged strip of tarmac (not quite ranking as a road) led north, weaving left and right on the coastline to end abruptly in a car park. The sun rose to light the ochre stained granite rocks, a scene worth soaking up for many meditative minutes. I deliberated my insignificance in this natural wonder and remounted the trusty steed to set south in search of post ride restitution. The sun's psychological warmth (a whole 1 degree warmer since it rose) helped the head, the climbs and the cadence heating the legs. All this climbing nonsense better have a positive payback on pace later! Almost the full set of Dura-Ace ratios were in use to get me back to the C850, then more downhill than up pumped up the average back to St. Helens.
1/4 The Steiglitz spin.
Motivation was at a trickle on Sunday, being bunch-less for a third week was taking it's toll. (The power of the peloton's persuasion to pedal is pretty awesome) There's a band of tarmac that threads its way along an isthmus (always wanted to use that word!) off Tassie's east coast passing Steiglitz and Akaroa that enticed a spin. A bay seemingly reserved for swans marked the first uphill to kick start the heart into zone 4, happy it was short lived and a downhill followed. Architectural monstrosities among the 60's fibro-cement holiday shacks were scattered through the scrub, eventually sailing through Steiglitz, citizens sensibly sleeping. There were more uphills and down dunes as the possums and wallabies awoke, a few k's in never-never land till arriving in Akaroa (smaller and sleepier that Steiglitz) I sailed on, down a steep exit of town for the final 5k stretch, to arrive at a dead end with a boat ramp attached. With no alternative but to retrace the route, the way back seemed a little easier (more downhill than up?), helped by a little more lumens of light in the sky. That sharp rise into Akaroa was a pain in the A..... thankfully only 400 meters worth of masochism. Through Steiglitz and the effort was easing, only the man-hole covers from hell to avoid (conveniently placed in the left-most few metres of road you ride in) A delightful little downhill finished the C851, back into St.Helens to watch the sun light the bay.
2/4 A late Launceston lap.
An ask at a Launceston bike shop finally found me a bunch ride, but arriving at the start grid at the due time I found it empty. (sounds like an FDC ride!) Kitted up and ready to roll prompted my own expedition, so out Wellington St (of course, facing an uphill) took me through Punchbowl and Kings Meadows to Youngtown on an easterly exit of the city. I can't get over the car courtesy in this state, I'm using the left-most half metre of the road and still drivers happy to wait if they're view isn't 100%, so extending a wave is the least I could do. Skirting the Bass Hwy, the road guided me to Breadalbane, over a roller coaster railway line and onto the billiard table tarmac beside the airport at Western Junction to head to Evandale.
The long 2k's of hot mix was heaven (a bit downhill too) but I'll bet there'd be hell to pay on the return. Into historic Evandale (thick with early settler history) I paid my respects at the two wheeled statue (they're famous for Penny Farthing racing here) and about faced for the return trip. Uphill into a headwind wasn't fun, so for the sake of variety I steered left, Perth bound. More gradual climbs came across four oncoming bikes (reassuring to be on recognised routes), and I soon entered Perth to search for the Bass Highway back to base. Speed was dragged down to Muppet motion into a long uphill with a strong headwind and rough asphalt to boot (it's hard to get your head around 27 being flat out!), but perseverance paid off with a smooth surface for a few k's in gentle decline, speed now satisfying in the 40's without turning myself inside out. Passing the airport and Kings Meadows exits, 1.5k's of downhill @ 7.2% made a fabulous finish. (thought I did good with a 57km/h average till seeing the KOM average of 98!)
3/4 Doin' Devonport.
I could get used to this riding in the warmth and daylight thing, anyone care to fund my retirement?! Holidays and circumstances had allowed me a late afternoon ride ritual, minus the dark and cold makes sense when work doesn't obstruct your obsession. My depart from Devonport headed northeast, the trajectory set at Wesley Vale and beyond, and of course the first few rises put my mapping in the "what were you thinking!" basket. The segments of 'I hate this f**king hill!' and 'going to meet Mrs. Palmer' headed through the spud fields, spinning into Wesley Vale and facing another 2k gradual grind upward to whittle away any sense of speed and ability.
At last a downhill returned kindness to the calves, downward to Northdown and steered south onto the C703. A quiet and narrow road weaved it's way 5k's to Moriarty, wind whipping at the wheels to make my direction drunk. I missed the planned route (B71) and wound up on the C702 by mistake, but bound for Latrobe would get me back to base camp via the scenic route. Over the rolling hills with soil as dark as Dookie's, just a farm or two to pass, either snail-like or swift. The road changed from C to B nearing Latrobe, and into civilisation I found the A (Bass Highway) to guide me home. Super smooth hot mix with the wind behind made the uphills a doddle, confidence previously crucified now caressed as the final kilometres dipped downhill. Some would question riding a dual lane carriageway but exclusive use of a two metre emergency lane courts some comfort, there's only the on and off ramps to watch (oh, and the loose stones, u-bolts and bits of pulverised possum the blackbirds don't want), driving into Devonport on a downhill was the fitting finish to 35k.
4/4 Toodle-oo Tassie.
How civilised it is to knock over a few k's in the sunshine, taking advantage of the final days of holidays in Van Diemen's place before employment plunges me back into the cold and dark mornings squeezing a ride into the day's schedule. East of Devonport again, I took Torquay Rd to Moriarty, a different road but similar potato plantations spread in the scenic hills. The wind worked me over even on the downhills (why should I get it easy?!), checking directions with Mr. Google at a couple of vague intersections to keep me on course.
The B71 worked it's way through Moriarty, a moment of shelter behind a hill giving hope for a reasonable return back to town. Each little rise seemed to set the thighs on fire, a reminder of how easy it'll be back on the flat hometown soil (well, I hope so!) Crawling up an incline toward Squeaking Point (I wanted to record that one as a Strava visit for it's namesake), I gestured to a truck behind to overtake, but he patiently plodded behind till a clear view ahead presented a pass (ah, if all were so tolerant!) The road levelled a little toward Point Sorrell, cows in the fields studying the silliness of a cycling soloist struggling, but I was contemplating the crassness of chomping cud. A turn toward Wesley Vale put me uphill again, though from yesterdays reconnaissance I knew the delight of the decline to come. A pause at the top to picture the vista (to plonk a photo here and save you from superfluous scribble) then full steam back to Devonport, regrettably finishing my 650k's of scenic Tasmanian touring but the lust of level ground, craving for Couldabeens' camaraderie and love of the local larrikins was great .
Week 14 238km YTD 3,737km
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